Have
by Mara93
Summary: Spying on a private moment of the handmaiden, the prince experiences one of the 7 deadly sins.  Lust.  Written for C L, prompted over there, all credit in description.  Rated M for mature suggestive themes and to be safe.  A/G, but all Arthur's view


**Have**

Rating:** M **to be safe, very suggestive at times

Written _**for Camelot_Love's Drabble Tag Round 3**_: The 7 Deadly Sins

Original prompt, credit to **grlmonday**: _**Arthur spies on Gwen bathing and….ensues. LUST**_

Thank you grlmonday for a tantalizing prompt that kind of forced me to write in a whole new way for the Merlin fandom and to all who so kindly responded at C_L.

And special thank you to FF readers for so kindly responding to these drabbles with such nice comments.

Takes place days after episode 2.04

I

_You want this. You want her. But you cannot have. You cannot hold._

_Still_

_You crave_

_You smolder_

_You_

_LUST_

I

It is night, late past the moon's shadow. You are sent out on duty before time of rest in your luxurious red adorned bed. _Your very big empty bed._ You complete your errand. You command the guards to their position. You retreat back to the towering walls of your home to get the rest needed from a day of long travels through the forest. _Hot summer tangling branched heat trapping…forest._ Your body is still ingrained with too much wetness from it and you simply want, desire a bath, one you will order your servant to prepare in your ready tub. You pass by the trees, the marketplaces and the little bits of people strolling through the finally cool night as…

Something _stops_ you.

Something catches your eye.

Locks your step.

Ceases your movement.

It is a door maybe not meant to be cracked partly open as it is. You think to be the gallant one and close it fully, but something deep within your not so mental sense, whispers _no_.

It is private. It is intimate. It is forbidden and yet…

Right now you simply don't care.

It is days after that trek through the woods to find her receding a bandit's capture. It is days after that time of making your way back to the castle in bitter silence. It is days after trying to save her from some madman who would have no care for her and being confronted by the man you may have once called your friend, who may have once almost been a knight, and now…

_Now._

It is no matter. It is days past. You and she do not talk enough other than quiet courtesies in the hall. She calls you _My Lord_…_Sire_…and sometimes it pricks at your skin. You want.

_You cannot-_

The door is still cracked. You are still watching what you should not be observant to, but then lust is an emotion of sinfulness, _is it not?_

You know she has no real bath. She told you when you stayed with her before. That was when you intimately, gently kissed her lips. There is no such softness in you now. There is only hardness you can barely hide behind the cracked open door.

No bath needed for her. She does well enough with a bucket. She sits upon a chair or a stool. You're not sure exactly what because a misplaced curtain to your accusing physical awareness hides enough. Yet still with her back to you there is plenty you can see, like the thin line of her shoulders, her spine's bones shadowing through so gently. _So…hotly against midnight cream skin._ You can see the curve of her waist, where her full luscious hips begin. Some women are so thin they have no real curves for a man to admire. She is not one of those. _She is fire of femininity._ She wears nothing on her face and to your watching eyes she does not need it ever. She is wickedly beautiful in no way that most women are. But then she is unique and could have smudges of dirt crossed upon her cheeks and it would not matter. You would still…

Lustfully harden.

Beauty is more than _white snow_. You'd rather have the burnt sun tendering under your fingers. You'd rather—

There is a _splash…splosh…splish_…of the water. It's almost like it is bouncing in the bucket. She brings up to her neck what she laid in it, a washcloth. Her neck, you can tell the curls are bound above with little care for she does not expect an audience in such an intimate moment. She does not even expect you.

But you know that saying about holding captive…

_One betraying observer…captive and bound._

You know you should leave. You have no right to be here. You have no call to watch.

And yet-wanting is _victor_ against all this.

Those curls have a few times been near your fingers. They have wrapped around your skin until she moved away. You love how they twist and ring into circles. You love how they beg for attention and when they get yours, they laugh and fall away, swipe at your skin as if to say…_ha_. They are as dark as midnight. They are shining in the day, a gloss of light through all their blacker shade. You want them. You want to part the door, hear its cracking sound and see her turn to find you there.

_You don't dare though._

As the washcloth leaves the neck and trails around the shoulder, caresses the back.

_Caresses_. You _want_ to be it. That thin little cloth she uses. You want to be the cleanser that scrubs at her skin. Molds at her curves. Sucks at her moisture. You want to wipe away any bit of dirt from the hard days you know she endures always. You want with your lips to kiss her.

Kiss it all away.

But this time with no tenderness.

You want to break down this door and enter…

_Her_

Home.

Enter

_Her_

Private moment.

You want to rush so fast that you hear her gasp. You want to close your fingers around her bare self and just…

Press her to the wooden walls.

_Press her_

Around you.

Into

_You_

Want her. You want this. You lust for all…

You do not move though. You do not dare. You simply watch as once again the cloth is dipped back into the water. _Ripple. Ripple. Swish._

It's back in her hands and once again you desire so fiercely to be that object. You want to fold over the tight little spot of her lower back she brings you…oh…_it_…to. You are delirious with ambition to turn into that rag. You are senseless to touch her body with all her complete trust because you would no longer be breathing. You'd just be a thing of

Lustful care.

You're no sorcerer though. What you want will not be. So even though it's probably been minutes past enough and if you are caught you will have something you need to say, you do not leave, you do not do what is right. You do what you

WANT.

She is turning a bit in the chair. You see the side of her face and the side of her…

Is her breast just beyond? Is it where the cloth of the curtain hides? You want to rip that silly piece of fabric away from its hinge. It has no call guarding her from you. You want to tear at it with your fingers so the barrier no longer be there. You want to see everything and-

You are mad. You are so _lustfully_ mad. Fie on what you so viciously desire. You cannot have.

_Yet you still do not leave._

It is her side for sure you are seeing. It is where her breast would begin, but the curtain will keep you from witnessing all and you have to endure it. She always wears flowers in her hair and she either has it up or just bits of it down. But tonight, during this last part of her bath, she pulls at its bounds and lets it…

_Fall._

You feel that too familiar rock of emotion again. You feel it as a boy who does not yet know how to control his physicality. You can do nothing to stop it though. You know when you leave here release will be so dire. You know _that_-

She stands, but still that curtain safely covers her enough.

Safely…FIE. It is your villain. Yes. You yearn to shred it to pieces. Even more as…

_Oh mercy of…_

She lifts her leg. She lifts it out enough for you see the widening to her thigh. You know there the skin is so full, lush, rich fruit that your tongue wettens for. You close your eyes for a half second afraid you have seen too much, afraid you will _miss_ too much. Your fingers press at the door's edge. The ones of your other hand press at you. It is sinful. It is wrong. It is so hard to keep still for. If only you could go inside. Come inside her home. Be inside with her. Slam the door closed. Show her you are here.

_Show her…_

You will help her with her wash. When you stayed with her before, she complained you treated her as a servant. Well now, you can _be_ the servant. You can fall to your knees and lather the cloth to her wanting skin. All you have to do is keep pressing that door. Keep…

You tell the lustful thoughts to shut their deceits. You tell them with your more sensible mind as your less sensible manhood laughs at the stupid weakness of words. _Push it open_, it says. _Get inside. Show her she made a mistake in that forest. You're the man who will watch over her. You're the man…_

_Who will bathe her with your lips._

With your hands.

With your-

You want to be what she strokes her skin with. You want to be her man. You want to be the only thing she desires. You want all else forgotten.

You want…

_The handmaiden that is forbidden to you._

You want…

G-

_"Is there someone there?"_

The question is asked in such a rush that you tremble with shock. You see her turn her fully naked body for just a fraction of a second, that curtain still torridly hiding enough and then another bigger cloth wrapped around her front.

You want to say yes. You want to reassure her. Then you want to kiss her. You want to do more than kisses. You want to feel her.

You want to touch her. You want to be inside…

Hot. Luscious. Lust.

So evil.

_So good._

So-

_"Is there?"_

She asks again and there is a slight tremble in her voice now. It stills your heart for a second. And yet the more sinful emotion lingers hotly underneath.

She starts moving to the door.

You start backing away.

You want.

You need.

She peeks her head out just a bit, her soft face so beautiful in the moonlight. You hide quickly behind a tree.

She seems to not see.

She realizes how she has left the door partly open.

She fixes that mistake now.

She closes it shut.

She shuts you out.

_Go away bad little boy. You should know better than to spy upon a woman._

Especially when she is taking a bath.

You start to walk away. You commence to leave because there is nothing more to see, to witness. You will go to bed tonight in that big lumber of furniture. You will restlessly push away the covers, feeling little coolness. You will yearn and you will not have.

You will boil with ache as you do still now, that hard part of you still full of swelling…

Lusting temper.

You want her. You can only hope one day, some day…

Some night filled of passion and savored fruitful thighs to have wrapped around you that

You will stop wanting.

You will instead…

HAVE.

I

Thanks for reading. Comments kindly appreciated. Hope it was a good read.

Note: This prompt just would not let me go and I excitedly dove into it. I'm not even sure where second person POV came into it because it's not my norm to write that way, but it just seemed to fit and then it just completely flowed. Honestly, this is one of the fastest things I've ever written without very much thought at all. The words and raw feeling just came I guess because of the point of view. And I wrote this so late that I didn't even really edit much before I posted because I was too tired to. Maybe that's how this fic was intended though, to just be simple.

Also making it occur days after ep. 2.04, it was so fun to fill in something of what we never saw there. A/G were so angsty in that episode, so much tension. This was if even in a hidden way Arthur showing some kind of dominance, some kind of release that I think we never got to see in the ep. Sure he was sad, but after, how did he feel?

Anyway, I've had so much fun with these drabbles. They're challenging and exciting to write because you get to use all kinds of moods and voices. And it's great for me especially, someone who writes long chapters a lot because this forces me to condense big time.

Any Hello I love you readers? I'm sorry! These too fun to write drabbles just sidelined me. I will try to get an update here soon. Thank you for your patience! I've got a lot more to tell with that story, some good inspiration now.

Also, I'll be posting soon a short story based on a spoiler (magazine) pic that would not let me go again, lol,…more multi character.


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